All Too Late
by shinme
Summary: Roger thinks that everything is too late. Mark tries to show him that this is only the beginning. Angsty MarkRoger Oneshot.


**A/N:** This is my first attempt at Mark/Roger, please **review** and let me know what you think! And thanks to **burn to emerge** for beta reading this story.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Rent.

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**All Too Late**

_Mark's POV_

You sit by the window a lot these days. You tell me it's because you're too tired to do anything else and I can't tell if you're joking or not. Sometimes I sit beside you just to keep you company, even though you don't seem to care whether or not you're alone. Maybe I'm the one who needs the company.

You like to watch the people down the street, you say, because they remind you of the things you used to do. How you used to _be_. It calms me to know that you still care about what's going on outside the loft, so I just smile and nod and listen. When you see someone walking a dog you tell me that you used to have a dog when you were a kid. You tell me how you would like to have another one, but how it's too late for that now. You see someone riding a bike down the street and you whisper how you no longer can do things like that. How you're too tired. How everything is too late.

It kills me to hear you say things like that. Some things haven't even started yet, but for you everything is already too late. When you see two lovers walking by hand in hand your eyes turn dark and you clench your jaw. I don't want you to say the things I know you're going to say. How it's too late for love. How you will never love anyone again. The small smiles you sometimes give me, the tight, lingering hugs and the intense gazes - I still want to believe that this is only the beginning.

When you start to move your lips, I lean forward till our faces are only inches apart. Slowly and cautiously I press my mouth to yours and you freeze, telling me how wrong this is. You tell me how we _can__'t_ and how we _shouldn't_ and how _good_ it feels as I continue to taste your dry, chapped lips, never wanting to let go. When I begin to hesitate you finally respond; your hands move to my back, pressing me closer. My body tenses and you must have noticed because your lips stop moving and we break apart. You find my eyes and I can see the worry you're trying to hide. Maybe it's reality that's scaring you, or maybe it's _me_.

I take some shallow breaths, trying to keep myself from kissing you again. I know I shouldn't have, and I know you know it too. That's why I don't tell you to stop when you lean in and once again capture my lips with yours, afraid that if we end it now we will end everything.

_This is only the beginning_, I start to tell you, but then you start coughing and our kiss is once again interrupted. I watch the fit shake your body, my trembling hands coming to rest on your back because I don't know what else to do with them. I count the seconds and listen to you coughing and coughing until we both have tears in our eyes. Then, as abruptly as it started, the coughing subsides and you look down at your sweaty palms, afraid to meet my eyes. I want to tell you again how this is only the beginning, but suddenly the words seems far too appropriate.

I close my eyes, feeling your hands on my face and I know you're wiping away my tears. I want to tell you to let them be because I like the wet feeling against my skin. The wetness burns me, as your kisses had. The tears help me remember how close we were to perfection just a few minutes ago. I open my eyes again to find you staring at me. I want to ask you if I can kiss you again. Or if you can kiss me. It doesn't matter, does it?

You bow your head then, making me feel cold and frightened because I know it's all over now. It's something in your posture; something ominous that makes me choke on air. Softly and hesitantly, you whisper that it's too late, it's all too late. I wipe away your tears and tell you that I know, _I know_. We had our moment but it's all over now. I bite my lip until I can taste blood, wishing that time wasn't my enemy. My impossible enemy.

You just stare across the loft, looking resigned and crestfallen, as if you had just given up the only remaining thing you wanted. I wish I could tell you now that this is only the beginning -I wish we could both believe it – but when I lean in to kiss you again, you turn your head away from me. I grab your cold hands and hold them between my own, tying to warm them, but make no more attempts to kiss you. I realize now that it's too late. And I know you know it too.

If only I had kissed you sooner.

_**- Fin**_


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